


rumor has it

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22657078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt learns of an unexpected rumor: that he and the bard are lovers.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 1097





	rumor has it

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

People always referred to Jaskier as Geralt’s _friend_. It didn’t matter what he said or how he reacted to the word and frankly he realized they were right.

Geralt had lived most of his long life without friends and he thought things were better that way. Friends were a liability; weighed you down and made you worry about them. Constantly.

Didn’t help that Jaskier somehow always found himself in trouble and Geralt (goddammit) could never find it in himself to stand by and not intervene.

And tonight would surely be no exception.

Jaskier had somehow talked Geralt into attending another ball as his bodyguard. Or friend. He was pretty sure he’d used that word a lot during their heated discussion.

_“Please, Geralt,” he’d begged, hands clasped together in front of his face. “It’s one of the biggest balls of the year. I can’t miss it.”  
_

_Geralt had smirked. “Why? Been too long since you stuck your dick in something that wasn’t the palm of your own hand?”  
_

_Jaskier had sputtered for a moment before he stopped, biting the inside of his cheek. “Firstly, good one. Secondly, fuck you. And thirdly, I have to keep my reputation up, Geralt. What kind of bard misses the biggest party of the year?”_

And so, here they were.

Well, Jaskier was across the ballroom, smiling sweetly at a woman with dark hair. Geralt was, as Jaskier liked to say, brooding in a corner.

A bard that decidedly wasn’t Jaskier was performing and Geralt couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t as good as Jaskier. Not that he’d ever say that to the bard; he surely wasn’t lacking in confidence.

He took a sip of ale, looking around the rest of the room. Most of the guests were royals, dressed in the most expensive silks.

A young man caught his attention, dressed in royal reds and golds, smiling brightly. Geralt debated if he should approach him or not; perhaps a good fuck wouldn’t be an _entirely_ terrible idea.

Thankfully the man made the decision for him. He walked over, grinning. “Geralt of Rivia, right?”

Geralt hummed from behind the rim of his cup, his only acknowledgment of the newcomer.

The man leaned against the wall, a couple feet down from Geralt, eyeing him. For a long moment he didn’t say anything and Geralt was starting to think he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

Until finally he opened his mouth just as the bard from earlier stopped playing and Jaskier took over.

Geralt didn’t hear the man’s comment at first, or at the very least didn’t comprehend it, too focused on Jaskier in his element, strumming the strings on his lute with practiced ease and singing brightly.

Everyone in the room had their eyes on him, and Geralt knew it wasn’t just for his talent or his voice but his charisma and looks, too.

Jaskier winked at a random woman and she turned away, a flush high on her cheeks.

“Did you hear me?”

Geralt startled, the barest jerk of his shoulders, and looked over at the man, who had an amused smile on his face.

“What?” he replied gruffly.

“A Witcher and a bard, what an odd match,” he said, tilting his head. “Did you ever imagine you’d end up with a bard of all people?”

Geralt blinked once. “ _What?_ ” he repeated.

The man’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Oh, um.” He glanced over at Jaskier. “Did I get it wrong?”

Geralt was still confused, mostly by choice because _certainly_ this random man wasn’t implying…

“He’s your lover, right?”

Geralt was at a loss for words. He’d just gotten used to being referred to as Jaskier’s friend and now people - well, one person, at least - thought he was his lover?

Based on _what?_

Geralt finally regained speech and cleared his throat, hard. “And why do you think that?” he asked, voice rough.

The man stepped back, putting his hands on the air. “Hey, I’m not the one who started the rumor.”

“Rumor?” he parroted in disbelief.

“Perhaps you should ask your bard where the rumor originated,” he suggested with a shrug before he turned and walked away.

Geralt frowned after his retreating back for a few long seconds before he looked away, searching for Jaskier in the crowd without even thinking about it.

He had stopped singing and was dancing with a man, flushed and grinning, sweat-slick from the heat of movement. The man was older, considerably older than Jaskier, and actively scooting his hands down Jaskier’s back toward his ass.

Geralt’s frown deepened. Why wasn’t he stopping him? If anything, Jaskier leaned into the man’s chest with a cheeky grin.

Feeling annoyed for more than one reason, Geralt turned and stormed out of the ballroom.

-

Jaskier found him an hour later, brooding out in the hall by himself. “Geralt,” he whined, approaching him. Geralt pointedly did not miss the mark on his neck, likely from the older gentleman. “Why did you abandon me? A bodyguard doesn’t do me a hell of a lot of good if he’s brooding out in the hallway where he can’t _see_ me.”

“Hmm,” was his reply.

Jaskier (dammit) had always been good at reading his mood and he was only improving. Frowning, he leaned against the wall beside him, their shoulders brushing, a familiar touch.

“Did something happen?” he asked. Geralt ignored him. “Geralt, talk to me.”

He sighed heavily. “People think we’re… _together_ , Jaskier,” he said finally. He expected some big reaction from Jaskier, a dramatic gasp or even a laugh of disbelief. All he got was an almost guilty look as Jaskier’s eyes flickered to the floor. “Jaskier?” he asked sharply.

Jaskier looked up, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t be mad,” he squeaked.

Geralt frowned. “Jaskier, what did you do?” he asked, perfectly even.

“ _I_ didn’t do anything,” he replied quickly. “I just… um, well.” Jaskier fidgeted with his hands. “A few months ago someone referred to you as my lover and I, well.” He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t exactly _correct_ them.” He laughed, a little high pitched. “Guess rumors really do travel fast.”

Geralt stared at him. For the second time that night, he was at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, looking away from Geralt. “It was dumb. I should’ve corrected them, I just - ”

Geralt stepped away from the wall, stopping in front of Jaskier. Jaskier looked up at him, swallowing his next words. “You just _what?_ ”

“I liked it,” he said, so small Geralt wouldn’t have heard him if not for his enhanced senses. “But - but that’s not an excuse,” he continued before Geralt could reply or even properly comprehend the words. “I shouldn’t have let it happen, not without your permission.”

Geralt shook his head, a mix of emotions coursing through his veins. “I don’t understand,” he replied finally, searching Jaskier’s eyes, so big and blue. “What do you mean ‘ _liked it’_?”

Jaskier smiled, a little tight. “You’re not that dumb, Geralt,” he said, barely a whisper.

And he _wasn’t._ But that didn’t make any sense. Geralt took a step back, feeling crowded all of a sudden. Jaskier frowned, curling in on himself and his stomach lurched at the sight. “Jaskier,” he said, reaching out for him, pressing his hands down on the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier was stiff under his hands. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You’ve never said anything about… and you’re always sleeping with strangers.”

“Because I knew I couldn’t have you!” he exploded, looking up at Geralt with sad, almost angry eyes. “I was trying to get over _you_ , Geralt, but no amount of one night stands did the trick.”

Geralt squeezed his shoulders lightly. “You should have told me,” he said.

“Why?” he replied, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Gods, Geralt, for the first half of our relationship you wouldn’t even call me your friend. I thought… I thought if you knew…” Geralt noticed, with a start, that tears were welling up in Jaskier’s eyes.

Geralt didn’t know what to say. He’d never been good with words.

So he did what he could; he pulled Jaskier forward by his shoulders, crushing him against his chest in a tight hug. Jaskier was stiff for a total of two seconds before he relaxed against Geralt, burying his face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, muffled by their position. “I was so _selfish_ , Geralt.”

Geralt slowly, hesitantly brushed a hand down Jaskier’s back. “I’m not mad, Jaskier,” he said. Not now, at least, not after hearing Jaskier’s side of things.

“You should be,” he whispered, hugging Geralt tighter. “I’m the worst.”

Geralt hmmed. He didn’t think that, not in the slightest. “Jaskier,” he pulled back, just enough to press their foreheads together. He heard Jaskier’s sharp intake of breath, felt him stiffen under his hands. “I think perhaps I’m the worst,” he said, working slowly to form his thoughts into words.

Jaskier sniffed. “Um, _what?_ ”

Geralt smiled for the briefest of seconds. “I saw you with that man earlier and… I think I was _jealous_ , bard,” he admitted. Now that he had all the pieces, things were falling into place, making sense and he was shocked but also somehow not at all.

Jaskier had always been there for him, a loyal companion, never scared off by Geralt’s sour moods or mean words. He listened and told Geralt stories and played for him when he could tell he was feeling down. Geralt never told him how much those things meant to him, because he was scared if he did they’d be taken from him.

The world seemed to work that way so often. Took all the good things until there was nothing left.

“I don’t understand,” Jaskier whispered, eyes wide with something like hope.

Geralt pressed their foreheads together harder, their noses bumping. “I think I need time,” he said truthfully. “But I don’t think your feelings are so unfounded,” he said, hoping Jaskier understood the implication behind his words, like he always did.

Jaskier let out a wet laugh. “Okay,” he said. “No rush.”

Geralt turned his head and buried his face in the warm crook of Jaskier’s neck. His nose bumped against the mark left by that _man,_ a man who didn’t know Jaskier at all, just knew the best parts of him, the parts he let bleed through into his songs. Geralt knew all of them, the good and the bad, and he decided he wanted Jaskier in his life anyway.

Thankfully, they had all the time in the world to work things out and discuss their feelings. Jaskier was right; there was no rush. Geralt had decades, no doubt, and if he had a say in it Jaskier would have many more decades ahead, too.

“Do you want to ditch this party?” he heard Jaskier whisper.

Geralt smiled against the skin of his neck, an answer all in itself.


End file.
